I give up

Alrighty, background confession time: I signed up for eHarmony last week. There was a special, yada yada yada, I’m on it. And the immediately noticeable thing that eHarmony’s got going for itself is that the majority of its users are literate. I also like that you can’t just go haphazardly perusing and messaging everyone. Rather, you have to be matched with them based on the “29 Dimensions of Compatibility” or whatever. And apparently I’m quite matchable. I’ve got like 80 of them suckers sitting in my account.

Now, I certainly am not interested in all of them, and I’m certain that they’re not all interested in me, but I’ve initiated contact with a few, and a few have initiated contact with me. Only one has gotten through the entire online meet-n-greet process into open communication, and that is where tonight’s story begins.

I hate online dating. I really do. I think it’s a fine way to meet people, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it at all. The thing I hate is the dating part. It’s just so unnatural to me because (and maybe I’ve said this before) you meet someone for the first time in a situation that is inherently romantic (a date), and it might take you three or four dates to figure out if you’d even want to be friends with this person, but by then, you’ve been on three or four dates, which technically means that you are dating. But you haven’t even had a chance to decide if you like them that way. And you’re dating. So in a normal relationship, where you’d decide after three meetings that you’re not into them, you just go the friend route. But in the online dating situation, you have to “break up.” You can’t just naturally put each other on the “friends” list. It’s just annoying.

So I met…hmmm…let’s call him Leo. I met Leo, and he made it to open communication. He seemed very nice and interesting, and we began to email. And then I thought, This is stupid. We should just meet like normal people and decide if we like each other or not…stop wasting our time emailing when we could either move forward or move on. So I emailed Leo and told him how I felt about online dating. I said that if he wanted to meet up in person, I’d like to do that, but I’d rather not call it a date, but rather and informational meeting. He said that was fine, and that he’d love to meet me for coffee some time. We did that tonight.

Ok. So I’m sitting in Starbucks, working on an article while I wait for him. And five minutes go by…then ten…then he finally comes up and says hi. Apparently he’d been waiting for me outside in the 35 degree weather. Why he didn’t come in to see if I was there first, I do not know. So he sits down, and the man is wearing a shirt something akin to this one, only it has fish on it instead of ducks.  Now, I’m not sure why one would choose to purchase such a garment, much less wear it to an informational meeting with a girl from eHarmony. I mean, I know it wasn’t a date and all, but if you’re looking in the closet for a shirt that’ll make a good impression on a girl, keep looking past anything involving wild game. Just a tip. I put forth a concerted effort to look cute, and now I just feel like I wasted my skinny jeans.

Don’t get me wrong, he was a perfectly nice guy, and it was a decent hour, and I got a cup of Earl Grey out of the deal, but it wasn’t a match. Our personalities were very different, and I felt like I couldn’t completely be myself for fear of overloading him. It was clear that some of my jokes were just missing the mark, and if I’d really let loose, I would have lost him entirely. Like if I’d told him about Just Now, he would have laughed a little (perhaps from discomfort) and said, “Alright. That’s cool, that’s cool. Right on,” all the while looking completely bewildered and uncertain about how to proceed. I could never get him really engaged in anything, and I almost felt like we were competing in the conversation instead of conversing.

I know that the personality difference is a perfectly valid reason for not being interested. I just wish I had something more concrete (like another relationship in the works) because he seemed really into it. And (and this is terrible), he was also matched with a friend of mine, but he closed the match because he “is pursuing another relationship.” Uhhhh…I really hope that’s not me. What am I supposed to do though? The man was wearing a button-down fish shirt for crying out loud!

to bathe or not to bathe?

That is the question. Yes, I am actually sitting here debating over whether I want to take a shower now or later. Actually, I guess the real debate is over energy output. Do I want to get my butt off the couch or not? Of course, the answer is “not,” but I’m going to have to do it sooner or later, so I may as well just get it over with.

Sigh. My life is so hard. I have to wake up in the mornings and, like, wash and feed myself and stuff. Then I have to decide what clothes to wear (although due to me-n-Brookie’s fashion show the other night, the wardrobe question has already been answered for the next three days), and then, wait…I actually have to PUT THEM ON? No, no, no. That’s just too much. Then I need to do what? What’s that you say? Fix my hair and put my face on? But, doesn’t that require all sorts of creams and gels and equipment? This is becoming a very lengthy process. I think I’m just going to go back to bed for a little while.

maybe it’s the pheromones

I’ve been living with my amazing roomie for over two years now, and it occurs to me sometimes just how much we’ve rubbed off on one another. For example, when we moved in, she would always ask me if things matched. Like really matched. Like, “Is this shirt the exact same color as the pinstripe in these pants that no one would even notice unless I pointed them out? Because if they’re off by even one shade, I’m not sure I can go out in public in confidence.” Now, she still want to make sure things look good, but she’s not nearly as concerned about everything matching perfectly because I’ve rubbed off onto her my belief that “you just have to own it.”

And whenever she goes on a trip, we always have to have a “fashion show” a night or two beforehand, so we can pick out her outfits for the time she’ll be away. I love this time with her. It’s just so fun. But I’ve never really been that kind of girl. I’ve always just thrown whatever was clean into the JanSport and been on my way.

Tonight, however, I had a fashion show. I’m going to Boone this weekend to hang out with some friends, and I don’t have very much in the way of a fall wardrobe (t-shirts only get skimpier as you cut them up and re-sew them), so we went through all my clothes and picked out specific outfits for each day, taking into consideration things like:

  • activities planned
  • activities unplanned
  • weather
  • cuteness
  • comfort

When did I become a planner? Or a girl, for that matter?

Rack Pack UNITE!

Ok, raise your hand if you’d be willing to peddle “Rack Pack” shirts around to all your friends, family, coworkers, babysitters, complete strangers, etc. Yeah, that’s what I thought. I mean, who wouldn’t want one?? We just need a couple of things now:

  1. a design or two
  2. affordable production

Then, with every donation of x number of dollars or more (depending on production costs), you get a FREE Rack Pack t-shirt! I’ll even rock it for you! So…anybody up for a little creative t-shirt designing? If we choose your design, we’ll give you a shirt for free without a donation. And…anybody know of a place we can get them made for cheap?

I keep thinking about that episode of The Cosby Show where Theo gets the cheap t-shirts, and all the necks are sewn shut, and he wants to take care of it on his own, but Mr. Starkey won’t return his calls, and so Claire calls him and threatens him with her wily lawyer talk, and everything works out in the end.

I hope that doesn’t happen with these shirts. My mom’s a teacher.

the rest of the story

I started telling the story about the dresses yesterday so that I could tell this story, but then the dress story became a story in and of itself, so I decided to wait on telling this story…until now.

So I was at the mall, returning those dresses, and I didn’t have any plans for the evening until much later, so I thought I’d walk around some. Then, thinking that it’s getting colder, I decided to start looking for this year’s “comfy sweater.” I don’t know why I don’t just wear the same comfy sweater from last year. Maybe it’s a style thing. I’m sure that it is. Anyhoe, I started going into all the stores hunting for a comfy sweater (which is basically just a gray, cardigan-type sweater, with or without a hood). And don’t ask me why I did this, but I went into Hollister.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Hollister, it is basically a children’s store that wants to look like it’s a store for high school/college-age kids. The way you can tell that it’s a children’s store is by looking at the marketing. If a store is trying to cater to high school/college, they will have marketing with pictures of girls who look like they’re in their late teens/early 20’s, but who are really at least 24. Hollister’s in-store marketing posters feature girls who are probably 18, but who look like they’re 12.

And I hope against hope that they really are 18, because if they’re not, I’m not kidding when I say that the marketing borders on child pornography. It was very disturbing. And the store itself is rather cavernous, which just adds to the creepiness. It’s all dark and claustrophobic.

They had a nice-looking comfy sweater there, but when I held one up, it looked like it might make a good sleeve for a comfy sweater that would actually fit me, so I put it down and hastened my exit from the cave.

Don’t let me go in there any more, and please, God, let it go out of business before I ever have children who might want to shop there.

I know I’m trying to save them and all, but…

So Emily Furr is getting married in January (!!!!), and she’s asked me to be a bridesmaid, which I am ecstatic to do. I really like being a bridesmaid. It’s much better than just going to a wedding. At least if you’re in it, you have a good reason for not bringing a date. What would he be doing the whole time? If you’re a bridesmaid, it’s actually better to go it alone. Plus, if you’re a bridesmaid, you’re in on all the action, but it’s not all revolving around you. Best of both worlds. All the fun, very little of the responsibility and stressful attention. Oh, and you get to wear a pretty dress.

Emily decided that rather than requiring us all to buy the same dress, we could just each buy a knee-length, black dress from J.Crew’s formal line. I think this is a fabulous idea. Everyone can select from various styles and prices to find something that suits her own taste and budget. The only downside is that J.Crew doesn’t carry these dresses in the store. You can only get them online, which means you can’t try them on first, so you just have to order all the ones you like and then return the ones that wind up not working for you.

There were a few that I really liked, but knowing my body type, I knew that one of them just wasn’t going to work at all. Ever the optimist, though, I decided to give it a shot. Well, my dresses came in the mail the other day (the worst day ever even before I started trying dresses on), and come to find out, J.Crew hates women with boobs. Hates. Wishes they would die of low self-esteem.

I’ve even shrunk a little lately with all the walking, but knowing how weird formal dress sizes are, I decided to order the bigger size I used to be. I guess my bottom half is shrinking while my torso stays the same size because those dresses laughed at me. All of them. Which meant that I had to return them all to the store this evening, which meant that I totally ruined that stores productivity for the entire day. Sigh. If only it could have been American Evil.